


The Lucky Ones

by PolsVoice



Category: Batman (Comics), Nightwing (Comics), Red Robin (Comics)
Genre: Character Study, Tim being a stalker, Tim's sad childhood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-09-15
Packaged: 2019-06-28 04:25:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,397
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15700119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PolsVoice/pseuds/PolsVoice
Summary: Tim would never forget the night he met Dick Grayson, nor would he pass up a chance to see him again. After all, curiosity killed the cat, but satisfaction brought it back.Or: A story exploring how a young Tim Drake got started on the path to becoming Robin.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Wow, it's been awhile. This one is a straight up character study exploring Tim and the thoughts and motivations that lead to him ultimately becoming Robin, because a) I think it's a topic that's been sort of under-explored and b) Tim is awesome and I need more of him than DC is currently giving me.

Tim couldn’t believe his luck. It was only a month ago that he had sat just outside the kitchen doorway and listened to the distinct, yet familiar sound of his parents fighting within. His mother had been wildly upset this time, her shrill screams echoing through the main floor for nearly an hour, though they would stay within Tim’s thoughts well into the night. The story became clearer the longer he sat and listened, as it often did. His father had arranged for them to attend some sort of charity dinner next month and that, apparently, meant having to cancel plans for a cruise that Tim hadn’t even known they were going on. The fight had gone on for a long time but his father had never relented, his harsh retorts insisting that they could go on a cruise any time, but this was an opportunity to network that came once in a blue moon. His dad even went so far as to list off names from the guest list, some of which Tim knew, some he didn’t, but there was really only one he cared about. Bruce Wayne. 

Tim knew that name all too well. Bruce Wayne was Gotham elite at its finest, with some people even referring to the man as the ‘King of Gotham’. He was young and handsome, rich and famous, the envy of the city. There was no event that happened in the city worth mentioning if Bruce Wayne didn’t show up with some beautiful woman on each arm. That wasn’t why the name had caught his attention though. Even at seven he knew that money could only buy a person so much. He knew Bruce Wayne’s name because he was the man who had, suddenly and some would say inexplicably, taken in Dick Grayson after his patents had died. 

Tim didn’t remember a lot about the night he’d met the young acrobat, but the things he did remember were very clear and distinct. He remembered meeting Dick Grayson and his parents before the show and a picture being taken while he sat proudly upon Dick Grayson’s bended knee. He remembered them on the trapeze, because that was simply unforgettable. Their ease and grace as they performed death-defying stunts with bright, carefree smiles evident even from the distance he sat at. He didn’t specifically remember John and Mary Grayson falling, but he did remember them hitting the ground. Despite the gruesome sight, the memory that haunted him the most was the memory of their son Dick standing on a platform looking down at them, wide eyed and pale. And even though no one believed him, he remembered very distinctly seeing Batman that night, just outside of where the light from the police cars could reach him. 

Tim had wondered about the boy often after the incident. Everyone knew that Bruce Wayne had made him his ward, but there wasn’t much information aside from that on google. The basics, he was able to find. Dick Grayson was the last surviving member of the Flying Grayson’s. His parents were considered the best acrobats in the world at the time of their death and best Tim could tell, the reputation seemed to go back generations. There was hardly a notable feat on the trapeze in the last hundred years that didn’t have the name ‘Grayson’ attached to it somehow. Tim had read several articles that had openly speculated that Dick Grayson was the most talented of all of them and in a few years could very well surpass his parents as a legend in the industry. There was another report Tim had seen from the Daily Planet that had announced that Dick Grayson had recently landed a quadruple flip, making him both the youngest and only living person who could pull the trick off. The article also mentioned that Dick Grayson had taken up gymnastics, but outside of that, did very little to answer any of the questions Tim had spent countless hours stewing over. Was Dick still as kind as he remembered? Did he miss the circus? Was he happy?

Tim realized very quickly that if Bruce Wayne would be at the dinner his mother had so vehemently protested against, then there was a decent chance that Dick Grayson would be as well. These sorts of dinners were usually advertised as ‘family affairs’, after all. Despite the fact, Tim also quickly realized that his parents wouldn’t want to take him. They never did, really. Every time a function came up they’d make some excuse. The event would be too boring, or perhaps the food wouldn’t be anything he’d like, or he’d probably be the only kid there. One time they’d told him he couldn’t go because he’d outgrown his suit and there was no time to get another one. Asking had never gotten him an invite to this sort of event in the past, and likely wouldn’t get him anything other than a rejection this time either, but he just had to find a way to go this time. He had to. Dick Grayson was probably gonna be there and he had so, so many questions. So this time, he decided, he simply wouldn’t ask. 

Tim had spent the rest of the month carefully and quietly sabotaging every arrangement his parents had tried to make for him. The fight they’d had that afternoon in the kitchen had given him an advantage right off the bat. They would be far less inclined to communicate with each other while angry. But that advantage was only slight and Tim knew it. He’d started by going into their phones and changing the numbers of babysitters to those of pet sitters. The resulting confusion had both amused him and bought him more than enough time to go into his mother’s laptop and rearrange the staff schedule so that none of the housekeepers would be at the house the night of the event. Then he got to messing up the rest of the schedule just enough so that she wouldn’t notice the error until it was too late. His parents had, of course, discovered the error and found a babysitting service with only a week to go, but that had been easily dealt with by going into his father’s email account and sending a message asking for a cancellation. He was sure to delete the evidence from the ‘sent’ box afterwards. It had worked like a charm, his parents blaming the babysitting service’s lack of professionalism for the error without so much as an inkling that Tim had had anything to do with it. So when they’d somehow found and hired another service at the last minute, Tim was not only prepared, but confident. All it had taken was an email explaining that his father had made a mistake and had actually wanted the service for the following weekend instead of this one. His parents had been livid, and while Tim felt a little bad for making them so upset, the closer he got to that dinner, the less bad he felt. It was only a few hours before their flight was supposed to leave that they finally conceded and decided that they had no choice but to bring their son along after all. Tim had barely managed to keep the smile off of his face the whole flight over.

The convention centre was bigger than any he’d ever been in before. The finishing details alone had probably cost a small fortune, never mind the furniture and decorations. The whole place practically screamed of wealth and opulence. Tim had gotten a long talk on the plane ride over outlining how he was supposed to act once they arrived. He was to be polite, but quiet, and he was not to bother anyone at the event. Tim had heard it all before. He feigned attention and nodded when it seemed appropriate, but the whole time he was making plans. His parents would watch him for a while when the event started, but once they were satisfied that he would just sit quietly and play on his tablet for the majority of the night, he would be free to do whatever he wanted. He’d used his time wisely, looking up all he could about the convention centre while his parents had been on a tour of the city earlier in the day. He focused heavily on floor plans, photos and anything else that might help him navigate the place quickly and quietly without being seen. He still wasn’t sure if Dick Grayson would be at the event, but if he was, Tim was gonna stay hidden. Just get little glimpses if and when he could to help answer some of those nagging questions that kept him awake at night. He knew he’d never be able to muster up the courage to confront the older boy and ask him directly, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t still get information. 

He followed his parents along obediently, taking a seat on a nearby sofa in the lobby when they ran in to some people they seemed to know. Which was impressive, seeing as it looked like they were still quite early. Only a few other people there were dressed for the event, and it appeared there were caterers still putting the finishing touches on tables in the dining room while a middle aged woman in a lavender gown squawked behind them about how the tables were supposed to have been set an hour ago. Tim didn’t really know the people his parents were currently talking to, but they’d greeted each other like old friends. Taking the opportunity, Tim’s eyes carefully scanned the dining room and main hall. He saw no sign of Bruce Wayne or his ward, which was to be expected this early in the night but made for boring viewing. So he listened in on some of his parents’ conversation, busying himself with the task of seeing if he could recall specific details about the people they were talking about. 

“I swear, Danvers has been wearing that same suit since the 80’s,” a blonde man by the name of Gladstone quipped to his dad. Mr. Danvers was a frequent source of gossip amongst the circles his parents hung out in. He was the founder and CEO of a tanking tech company known for manufacturing old, out of date technology like pagers and VCR’s. He had been on the cutting edge of technology at one time, but now was just considered old, set in his ways and traditional to a fault. His peers ridiculed him, sometimes openly, but the man seemed to care very little about their opinions. Tim’s mom had once pointed out that he really had no reason to care about what others said, he’d already made his fortune, but very few people seemed to agree. 

“I see Lex Luthor has been quite the hermit these days. He’s probably working on something brilliant if he’s been this quiet,” he heard a woman comment to his mother in a low tone. Tim knew that name well enough. Lex Luthor was a force to be reckoned with in the tech world. And possibly in the rest of the world too. He was considered something of a mad genius, always revealing his elaborate plans and devices at the last possible moment while spending the rest of his time working in secrecy. Tim had never met the man formally, and while the world at large seemed to hold him in high regard, he had always kinda creeped Tim out. There was something off about the man. He was just a little bit too charming, a little bit too mysterious and he always seemed to have the people around him eating out of the palm of his hand. Tim had always felt a little bit unsettled when his name came up in conversation, but he could find no solid, logical reason for it. 

“Oh good god, is that Oliver Queen at the bar again? Dinner isn’t even scheduled to start for another hour! I suppose we shouldn’t be surprised…” An older lady talking to his dad had exclaimed, staring openly at the bar area with a look of mild disgust on her face. Oliver Queen was another name that tended to precede a lot of laughter these days. He was young, rich and successful, but was also something of a social outcast in the circles one would normally find him in. They had plenty of names for him, though only a few Tim could recall offhand. ‘Leftwing nutbar’, ‘loud-mouthed socialist’, ‘Robin Hood’. He came from ‘old money’ just like most of the people in the room but unlike them, he was known to use his money to help out the common man rather than keep up with the Jones’. Tim had never met him either, and while he certainly seemed every bit as loud, eccentric and opinionated as everyone claimed, he didn’t seem nearly as bad as his parents friends made him out to be. Still, Tim knew it was social suicide to associate with anyone who wasn’t in good favour with this crowd. It was probably the reason his parents never talked to him. 

“Of course Bruce Wayne hasn’t arrived yet,” Tim heard off to his left, causing his head to turn so fast he nearly fell off the edge of the sofa he’d been camping out on. His eyes quickly zoned in on a short, sophisticated woman standing next to his mother, “He’s always late to these things. It’s a wonder he manages to get anything accomplished when it comes to the business,” she commented with a laugh, pushing a lock of her brown hair off one shoulder. 

“I have to say, the man may be an airhead, but he has incredible luck and an even more incredible bank account,” Another woman laughed. He thought he recognized her as Mrs. Gladstone, but he couldn’t quite recall if she was the same woman he’d once seen at a business lunch that one time. Either way, the comment was unfair. Bruce Wayne didn’t have a reputation as a very smart man, but he was far from an airhead. His success being completely due to luck was too coincidental a concept for Tim to accept as true. Besides, the man was nice. He gave a lot of his money to charity, orphanages and children’s interest groups in particular, and did a lot more than that to help benefit Gotham. He’d helped the police force out financially on several occasions and had personally made sure that the new wing of Gotham General had been built. He’d even set up a hiring program at his company to help less fortunate families access better jobs so that they wouldn’t have to turn to crime to supplement their incomes or feed their children. Tim thought sometimes that nobody loved Gotham as much as Bruce Wayne did. Tim couldn’t think of a single thing the man wouldn’t do for the city and its people if it was within his power. 

“Does anyone know if he’ll be bringing that circus boy tonight?” The same older lady who had made a comment about Oliver Queen asked with a glint in her eye. The question garnered a round of laughter from the ladies, though it looked as though his mother was mostly faking. Tim quirked an eyebrow in confusion. The comment hadn’t seemed funny. “Janet, you’re from Gotham, do you know?” The woman inquired with his mother once the laughter had died down. Tim leaned in closer as he felt his heart skip a beat or two, waiting impatiently for his mother’s answer. 

“I’m honestly not sure. He tends to keep things regarding his ward pretty private,” His mom answered politely. Tim had to work hard to hide the smile that wanted to break out over his face at the comment. Not that it was a solid confirmation, far from it, but she hadn’t said ‘no’ either. That meant his plan was definitely still on. 

~~~

It didn’t take very long for his parents to become distracted enough for him to slip away. He’d planned the spot he’d situated himself at well in advance. Just outside the front entrance, behind a cement planter. The flowers inside were of a different variety than the ones in the photos he’d seen, but otherwise it had been every bit as good as he’d imagined, with an almost perfect view of where the cars were pulling up. Bruce Wayne was sure to show up soon. There was still about a half hour until dinner was to be served, maybe more if the caterers were behind, and while Bruce Wayne would certainly be fashionably late, there was very little chance that he’d arrive actually late. 

Tim clutched the messenger bag he’d brought along closer to his chest as he looked out, waiting. He saw a few cars pull up and a few people get out. He only recognized one face, though. Miranda Levine, a woman his mother and father had worked with on a handful of occasions. She was the owner and CEO of a PR company that represented a lot of important people. She was nice enough, he supposed, but she was all business, all the time. His parents seemed to like her, and he hadn’t heard much gossip about her aside from her being ‘new money’ and a ‘self-made woman’. He watched her walk inside with her husband and daughter in tow, no nonsense as one might have expected. 

It wasn’t long after that that another car pulled up. It was classic, but flashy. Understated, but wildly expensive. Tim held his breath, looking on with wide eyes as the door opened and sure enough, Bruce Wayne emerged a moment after, smiling as he greeted the crowd that seemed to magically form in front of him. The same crowd that was serving to seriously obscure Tim’s perfect view. Bruce Wayne was quite tall, so he was still easy to spot, but Bruce Wayne wasn’t who Tim wanted to see. He craned his neck painfully and scowled in annoyance until a small break in the crowd allowed just enough of a view to spot the young teen standing dutifully at Bruce Wayne’s side. Tim recognized the boy instantly, though he was far from ready for the thrill that came over him, a gasp escaping him well before he could muster the will to regain his composure. 

Dick Grayson was taller than he remembered, though still pretty small for his age, and the suit he wore was very different than the circus costume he’d worn the day they’d met, but it was clear that he hadn’t lost any of his showmanship since then. The older boy commanded attention effortlessly with his bright smile and alluring presence. He was a true natural in the spotlight. Tim was enthralled. It had been only seconds and yet one of the questions he hadn’t even realized he’d been asking had been answered. Dick Grayson could still put on a show like no other. It was something the internet and newspapers would never truly be able to tell him and his parents friends only seemed to say stuff about the teen that was…strange and often contradictory. Some of them said he didn’t belong with someone like Mr. Wayne, yet others said that he was a brilliant publicity stunt on Bruce Wayne’s part and the man would be a fool to let him go. Tim had heard others comment about how Dick Grayson had been very lucky to somehow get Bruce Wayne of all people to foster him. 

Tim knew deep down that none of that could really be true. Dick was an orphan, and so was Bruce Wayne. Tim’s parents had glossed over the details when he’d asked about it, but google had no problems filling in the blanks. Bruce Wayne had been orphaned due to an incident in crime alley that the papers had described as a ‘mugging gone wrong’, but actually sounded to Tim a lot like a murder. A murder the man had witnessed when he hadn’t been much older than Tim was now. Just like Dick Grayson had. The parallels were actually pretty uncanny when Tim compared the stories side-by-side. Maybe Bruce Wayne had seen a little bit of himself in the boy, had empathized, or maybe he was simply just able to recognize how special the boy was. After all, even Batman had seen that, even if nobody but Tim knew. Whatever the reason, Tim knew Bruce Wayne hadn’t made the decision to care for the acrobat based on any sort of business decision or popularity gimmick. 

The crowd around the duo dissipated slowly, and as they approached, Tim strained to hear any bits of the conversation that he could. Gain any insight, any tiny scrap of information that might help him put another piece of the puzzle in place. “Bruce! So nice to see you!” one woman stopped dead in her tracks to tell him. 

“Cheryl, it’s been ages! How are the boys? You’ve met Richard, haven’t you?” Tim heard Bruce Wayne reply pleasantly. He’d thought it interesting that the man had made such a point of involving Dick Grayson in the conversation. His own parents had never really done anything like that for him. They usually encouraged him to find a place to sit quietly while they worked the room on the odd occasion that they brought him along at all. The handful of people who stumbled across him, who cared enough to ask who he was here with, were often surprised to find out the Drake’s even had a child. 

“So nice to see you again, Bruce. I see Richard is still in your care,” Tim heard from the mouth of Danvers himself, extending one of his ancient arms in greeting. Tim scowled lightly at the comment. Neither Mr. Wayne nor Dick Grayson batted an eye at it, but there was something mocking to the statement, something subtle that left a bad taste in Tim’s mouth.

“Yes, it seems he hasn’t gotten tired of living with me yet,” Bruce Wayne said with a sharp, courteous laugh. Tim could see the older boy laugh a little bit too, but Tim was pretty sure they’d heard the same uncivil edge he had, as they moved on more quickly than politeness would normally warrant. 

They’d only made it a few steps before being stopped by a woman around the same age as Mr. Wayne in a sparkling pink dress. “Well if it isn’t Bruce Wayne himself! And I see you’ve brought your ward along too. Young man, you must feel incredibly privileged to be able to attend an event like this,” She exclaimed brightly, completely unaware, best Tim could tell, that her comment was moderately insensitive. But that was common. Tim had heard comments like it many times. Someone asking how much someone else’s daughter got after her husbands death, or someone commenting on how well a new business was doing despite the owner coming from an impoverished neighbourhood. 

“Yes, it’s really something,” Dick Grayson replied. It was the first time Tim had heard the boy’s voice since that night. It had changed a little bit from what he could remember, but it still sounded young and boyish, just as it had when he’d sat Tim on one leg and told him he’d be preforming for him tonight. The fact hit home very suddenly that this really was Dick Grayson. One of the actual Flying Grayson’s, standing only meters from where he was crouched down now. It sent a thrill through his whole body, the force of which was nearly overwhelming. He’d never felt anything like it before, but he knew he wanted to feel it again. Over and over. Probably for the rest of his life.

They were only steps from the door, just a couple meters from where Tim was, when a man even older and stuffier than Danvers sauntered through. He regarded them a moment before boldly and pompously extending his hand out in greeting. 

“Mr. Wayne, it’s been some time. I see you’ve brought Richard along. Nice that they’re letting people like him in to these events now, don’t you think?” The man asked offhandedly. Bruce Wayne’s pleasant mask cracked for only a slight moment, Dick Grayson’s smile only waned slightly, but Tim’s jaw almost hit the floor as he replayed the words in his head. He’d heard the words ‘gypsy’ and ‘carnie’ thrown around occasionally when Dick Grayson’s name came up, but it was always in hushed tones and whispers in sparsely populated areas. The openness of the comment was staggering, as was the implication. There was no definition, no way Tim could twist the words to make ‘people like him’ sound polite or well-meaning. 

Tim had been so caught up in his thoughts that he had missed the reply the duo had given the man, but more importantly he had also missed the point at which they had decided to detour from the main entrance, not noticing until they were walking straight towards him. His previous train of thought derailed immediately as the panic started to set in. If he did nothing, he would be caught for sure and then he would be in serious trouble. His eyes scanned the area quickly, his hand clutched at the strap of his messenger bag, but he saw no other readily available hiding places. If he was careful, and timed it right, he could probably make it to the other side of the planter without them noticing. He waited, heart beating loudly in his chest, before creeping along, quickly but quietly, to the other side. He held on to the strap of his messenger bag for dear life when he finally made it, biting a lip and holding his breath to keep himself as quiet and as still as possible. Then he waited, listening for any signs that he’d been spotted. Any small indication that his plan had failed and that he’d be spending the rest of the night alone in a hotel room. 

“Bruce, are you sure I can’t just go back to the hotel?” Tim heard Dick’s voice, much louder now due to the close proximity, and let his breath out slowly in relief. This was the start of a conversation between the two of them, a private conversation that he shouldn’t be listening to granted, but it was clear proof that they hadn’t seen him. 

“I know it isn’t easy, but not everyone inside is like that,” Tim heard Bruce Wayne assure his ward in a way that seemed…different than how Tim would have expected. The words didn’t sound dumb, or light-hearted. The words held weight, maybe even a wisdom, which was not something he’d have ever associated with Bruce Wayne. Maybe the man was smarter than people thought he was after all. 

“You always say that,” Dick Grayson replied, a bit of teasing in his voice that didn’t quite mask the disappointment underneath. Tim couldn’t see them anymore, situated behind solid concrete as he was, but he had a feeling that the older boy was no longer smiling, “But, hey, the shows gotta go on, right?” He followed up quickly, his voice bright as if the slip had never happened. Tim wasn’t sure how he’d gone from one extreme to the other so seamlessly, but it sounded like the second statement was a sort of act all on its own. 

“It may not be quite so bad this time. I know for a fact Oliver Queen is in there somewhere and I’d wager that if he’s attending the event, then Roy Harper is probably somewhere inside too,” Bruce Wayne announced after a small pause. 

“What?! You didn’t tell me Roy was gonna be here!” Tim heard Dick Grayson exclaim playfully, the cheer in his voice sounding genuine this time. Tim didn’t really recognize the name. There were no Harper’s he knew of that owned companies or the like. His dad had said something on the phone a few months ago about Oliver Queen taking in a kid, though. Sort of like Bruce Wayne had. Tim had only gotten a couple small details before the conversation dissolved into gossip about whether the kid was Mr. Queen’s illegitimate son or not. Either way, he sounded like someone Dick liked a fair bit. 

“Must have slipped my mind,” Mr. Wayne joked lightly with the teen. It sounded nice. Friendly. Bruce Wayne talked to Dick Grayson almost as though he wasn’t just ‘some kid’ he had to parent, but almost as if he were a friend too. Tim didn’t think he’d ever had an adult speak that way to him. In fact, didn’t know that adults ever spoke to kids like that outside of movies. It was just one more thing that absolutely fascinated him, one more thing that he just had to learn more about despite the risks. 

“Now how about you and I get in there before they start dinner without us,” Bruce Wayne reminded his ward, and inadvertently Tim, from the other side of the planter. Tim felt a sense of dread as Dick Grayson responded in the positive and the two started walking inside. Tim had completely forgotten about the dinner his parents had been fully expecting him to be attending. On time. He was probably late already. Maybe, with any luck, the caterers would be behind and he’d make it there before any actual food got to the table. Tim could hear the voices of Dick Grayson and Mr. Wayne fading as they entered the building, but he still waited patiently, counting to 100 just to be safe, before getting up, dusting himself off and bolting towards the dining room.


	2. Chapter 2

Tim knew his parents wouldn’t be happy the moment he realized that the appetizers had made it to the table before he had. His mother frowned down at him as he climbed up onto the too-large chair. When he looked to his right, it was apparent that his father was less than impressed as well. 

“And just where have you been?” Tim’s dad asked as the boy settled in his seat, sitting up tall so that he could properly reach the table top. He looked up at his dad innocently, as he usually did. 

“I got lost on the way back from the bathroom,” Tim said coolly with a small shrug to emphasize the point. He knew deep down that he shouldn’t lie. His nannies had always told him that lying was something that bad kids did, but Tim had always struggled to see in it such black and white terms. Lies that hurt other people, he could understand, but were the lies that made people happy so bad? What about the ones that people didn’t know they were telling? Like when his dad had promised to take him to that Gotham Knights game last summer, but then his assistant got sick so he’d had to spend the weekend making calls. 

“Oh Tim, again? You really need to pay more attention. Now eat your dinner before it gets cold,” His mom piped in with a sigh before turning back to the man she had been speaking with. He’d lost his dad’s attention even quicker to a man in a very shiny shirt. 

Tim obediently picked up his fork and poked it at his salad, putting small bits in his mouth mostly for show. The dish looked kinda funny, definitely tasted funny and it had shrimp on it, which Tim had never really cared for. However, if he didn’t eat it, it would draw unwanted attention and his parents would have a solid excuse not to bring him next time. He could practically already hear the chorus of ‘we brought you last time and you didn’t eat anything’ as he bit down on the bitter green leaves. He didn’t care how bad they tasted. He’d choked down the whole meal if he had to, and a thousand more like it, if it would convince his parents to take him along again. Tim was determined that there be a next time because, as luck would have it, his seat offered him a near perfect view of the table across the room where Bruce Wayne and Dick Grayson were seated and the only term he could use to describe that feeling was unbridled joy. 

“Is this your son? He looks so much like you Jack,” Tim heard a kind looking woman say from across the table. Tim looked up, keeping one eye across the room, but did not comment. She wasn’t speaking to him directly, and his parents and teachers had been very clear that children were only to speak when spoken to directly. 

“I didn’t realize you two had any children,” The man sitting next to her, probably her husband, said. It garnering an annoyed look from the kind woman that seemed to put him on edge momentarily, “What I mean is, it must be nice to have a son to carry on the business once you retire,” he corrected himself. Tim liked that statement a lot less than the first. He didn’t really want to take over his parents business when he grew up, even though it was expected. He didn’t care much for books, or artifacts, or things of the past in general, really. He liked science and computers. Progress and innovation. What his parents did sounded boring and frivolous, though he knew he could never tell them that. 

“Retire? Now why would I want to do a thing like that?” Tim heard his dad joke from beside him. Much to Tim’s relief, he believed him. It was a strange and awkward comfort knowing his parents would work until it was no longer possible. Tim felt conflicted over the knowledge, but at least it saved him from having to take on their roles anytime soon. The conversation thankfully shifted away from him very quickly after that as his dad and the couple started talking about figures and projections that were so much less interesting than what was happening across the dining room. 

Dick Grayson seemed to be in a similar predicament at his own table, though he handled it much more fluidly than Tim had, engaging in the conversation from time to time, smiling and laughing when the moments called for it. When the conversation lulled, or didn’t require his attention, he’d turn and start bantering with a red haired teen sitting next to Oliver Queen one table over. The way that boy was acting seemed to imply that he was at the event with Mr. Queen. Tim didn’t know much about the boy Mr. Queen had taken in, mostly just that he existed and that he’d come from some sort of native reservation. This boy didn’t look Native American, but he very likely was both Oliver Queen’s ward and the Roy Harper Dick Grayson had been so excited to see. They certainly seemed to know each other well. Maybe they were even friends. 

The plates were quickly exchanged in front of him, but Tim barely noticed, his gaze fixated on the two boys across the dining hall. It was a life he’d fantasized about often. Dick Grayson was charming, talented and kind. Bruce Wayne went out of his way to introduce him to people. He did gymnastics. He had a friend. Tim had none of those characteristics. His parents usually described him as ‘shy’ and ‘socially awkward’ when speaking to others. And he wasn’t talented, his marks in gym class proved that much. He was never mean to anyone, not on purpose, but was he really kind? Sometimes he thought things that weren’t very nice and there was that time last month when a kid in his class was getting picked on and he hadn’t said anything. Dick Grayson probably would have said something if he’d been there. And those bullies probably would have listened to him too. 

“Tim, eat your dinner,” His dad reminded him sharply. Tim hadn’t even noticed the lull in the conversation until his dad had spoken. He’d apparently neglected to even pick up the spoon on the side of the plate his soup had been served on, which was a dumb slip-up that could easily cost him his ticket to the next event. Obediently, he picked up the spoon, dipping it into the thick liquid. He wasn’t really hungry and the small bowl, or shot glass more like it, had condensation and frost on the outside that indicated his soup was ice cold, but he wouldn’t dare cause a scene by saying so. He did have his dad’s attention, at least. 

“Do you know what the wifi password is?” Tim asked his dad impulsively, “for after dinner,” he added quickly before he could be reminded that there were no electronics allowed at the table. When they were out, anyway. At home his dad never seemed to mind much on the odd occasion he was around for dinner. 

“I’ll see if I can get it after dinner,” His dad told him with a small sigh and shake of his head. Tim knew the promise was probably an empty one. Sometimes his parents would come through on them, but most often they would get busy and forget, or something more important would come up. Like a few weeks ago when they told Tim they’d take him to that new Star Trek movie, but ultimately had to fly out to Boston that weekend for business instead. He’d told himself it didn’t matter. It was just a movie. Mrs. McAvery had bought the DVD for him when she’d went to go get groceries last week, anyway. Tim had eyed it eagerly for a week but hadn’t opened it yet, hoping that maybe they could all watch it together sometime. He’d open it then for sure. 

Tim had learned the value of backup plans early on. If his mom forgot to sign his permission slips, he’d just get the school to call her. If his dad forgot to put cookies on the grocery list, he’d just mention it to the housekeepers himself. And if his dad didn’t come through with the wifi password tonight, he could just go ask at the reception desk. He probably wouldn’t miss the internet much anyway, seeing as he had plans for after dinner. Really, really awesome plans. 

~~~

Dinner seemed to take forever. His parents had spent the whole time talking to people while Dick Grayson and Roy Harper had run off immediately after dessert was served. Tim looked on with a smile of his own as Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen shared a laugh, watching their teenaged wards depart the dining room to places unknown. Tim found his eyes wandering out of sheer boredom after that, unable to leave the table until his distracted parents remembered to give him permission. 

His eye eventually settled on Lex Luthor of all people. He sat mostly alone at a nearby table with a decidedly smug look on his face that seemed really out of place. It didn’t take long for Tim to follow his gaze and realize that the man was staring openly at Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen. It may have been due to some sort of business dealings, or some kind of simple curiosity, but Tim didn’t think the stare looked at all friendly. In fact, there was something downright unsettling about it, something that made Tim want to shiver more than his ice cold soup had. Neither Mr. Wayne nor Mr. Queen seemed to take notice of it, but it made Tim profoundly uncomfortable, and served as the motivator that forced him to try one more time to get his mom’s attention. 

“Mom? Mom,” Tim said, squirming in his too-large chair until he was turned to his mother, tugging just hard enough at the deep blue dress she’d worn tonight to get her attention. His mom chucked nervously at the people she was talking to before being forced to turn to him, a small, tight smile on her face. 

“Tim, I was in the middle of a conversation. What do you want?” She asked with just a hint of sternness in her voice. If they’d been alone she may have been more annoyed with him, may have even scolded him, but in public as they were, she would usually try to save face. This tendency, however, also made her the more likely of his two parents to be agreeable when there were outside eyes on her, which in turn, would often work to Tim’s advantage. 

“Can I go see if Alex is here?” Tim asked her. Alex was the son of an event planner his mom and dad occasionally used. They were about the same age, and had played at Tim’s house a couple of times while their moms had been busy, but he wasn’t really a friend or anything. Tim was certain the boy wouldn’t be here tonight, but he didn’t exactly know a lot of other kids and he definitely couldn’t tell his mom he wanted to leave the table so that he could go spy on Bruce Wayne’s ward. His mom didn’t seem to catch on to the obvious fact that the son of a small event planner wouldn’t be there anyway, nodding absently before turning back to her friends. 

“Just make sure you don’t go too far,” She told him with a small, subconscious wave of her hand. Tim smiled just a little bit as he crawled down from his chair. He picked up his too-large messenger bag, an old hand-me-down his dad used to use when he was traveling, and triple-checked the contents. He’d planned it out even before his own plane ticket had been purchased. He had, of course, brought his tablet, along with a change of clothes in case he got his suit dirty enough for anyone to notice and question where he’d been. Behind that sat a picture book he hadn’t quite had the heart to tell his mom he’d outgrown years ago. But he’d also packed the novel he actually wanted to read if his plans for the night got derailed for any reason. But it seemed the novel wouldn’t be needed. Everything so far had gone even better than he’d expected. 

Tim barely held back the urge to run out of the dining room. It would have only gotten him in trouble, anyway. He didn’t have time to get in trouble. Dick Grayson had a good hour or so head start on him by this point and Tim was determined to close that gap. He wandered around the convention centre like a ghost for nearly an hour, or at least it had felt like it, as so few people seemed to take any notice of him. He’d stayed close to the walls, hid behind objects when possible and generally kept his distance from others as he analyzed each sector. There were a few kids of varying ages roaming around, but none of them were hanging out with Dick Grayson or Oliver Queen’s ward. Those two had seemingly vanished into thin air at some point in the night. He’d even gone outside for a while, just in case they had decided to get some air, but to no avail. He probably could have asked the other kids for information, but what if they told Dick Grayson that some little kid he didn’t know was looking for him? It was too risky, too easy to expose himself, so he stayed quiet as he wandered through the crowds and empty corridors looking for clues to their whereabouts. He made it almost all the way to the kitchen before someone finally took notice of him. 

“Are you lost?” asked a dark-skinned young woman with a long black ponytail. She was clearly one of the catering staff judging by her clothes. Her voice had startled Tim, especially after so long where no one had spared him a second glance. His first instinct had been to tell the woman ‘no’ and run off as far and as fast as he could go, but he stopped himself just short of saying the actual word. Another idea had come to him. A much better idea. 

“My…my mom and dad sent to go find my brother. Have you…maybe seen him?” Tim asked meekly. It was a plausible lie. He and Dick Grayson…did look a little bit alike. Dick’s skin was a little bit darker and his features were distinctly more Eastern European, but they both had dark hair and blue eyes, and the differences in their features weren’t dramatic enough to warrant a closer look. There was little chance this woman, or any of the other staff, knew who Dick Grayson was. Tim was pretty sure his trick was gonna work, but still he clutched the strap of his messenger bag just a little tighter in careful anticipation. 

“Maybe. What does he look like?” The girl asked with a small smile. She was friendly, and even a little bit playful. She seemed to like that he was there, even though he was probably keeping her from her work. He really felt bad lying to her like he was, she seemed genuinely nice, but at least it was only a small lie. The thought of seeing Dick Grayson again was so tantalizing that it masked most of the remorse he felt in the moment. He didn’t know why he was so compelled to see the other boy, couldn’t put a name to the thoughts and feelings the whole situation stirred inside of him, he just knew he had to execute his plan. Even if it meant telling a small lie to the nice lady, the only person who had cared to talk to him at all. 

“Um…he’s 13, but…but he looks younger. He has black hair and blue eyes. Like…like I do. And he was wearing a black suit with a blue shirt,” Tim said trying to sound as natural as possible, like Dick Grayson was someone he actually knew personally rather than just someone he’d read a lot about on the internet. “He might be with a boy with red hair in a grey suit,” Tim added when she didn’t immediately answer. 

“Well there was a red haired kid hanging out by the stairs earlier. You could try there. It’s just down the hall behind the kitchen,” She said thoughtfully. Tim knew there was only one real set of stairs in the building. They lead up to some offices, a meeting room and a couple storage closets. He had thought to check there earlier, had even detoured that way in his travels, but when he’d gone to look he’d found the hallway roped off and had turned around. It was quite possible the older boys hadn’t, especially if they’d been looking for somewhere quiet where no one would bother them. The more he thought about it, the more it sounded exactly like something a couple of teenagers would do. 

“Thanks!” Tim said, his enthusiasm making him forget his manners as he sprinted off towards the location before the lady could utter a reply. He thought he heard her say an awkward ‘you’re welcome’ in his wake, but he didn’t look back to make sure. He felt an odd feeling coursing through him as he dashed. A strange mix of apprehension, excitement and…was it hope? He didn’t think too hard about it. He had a mission to complete still. 

~~~

The low rumble from the dining room almost completely masked the sound of voices coming from behind the roped off area that the young caterer had been talking about. It had to be them, but Tim knew he couldn’t just go running in to see what they were up to. He’d be spotted for sure, or at least heard, by the two teens if he wasn’t careful. 

He crept under the velvet rope carefully, even though it felt wrong. It was such a blatant violation of the rules that he found he needed a moment to justify his actions. The two older teens had obviously already broken the rules before him, and it wasn’t like he was gonna hurt anything. With the promise of being able to see Dick Grayson again, to find out more about him, his thin excuse was more than enough to carry him to the other side of the barrier. 

Tim crept along, keeping his footsteps as light as possible, until he stood just behind the wall separating the stairs from the rest of the corridor. It would keep him hidden, but it didn’t block out the voices of two boys talking on the stairs. 

“I’m telling you, she’s totally into me,” Tim heard an unfamiliar voice exclaim as he leaned his back against the partition. 

“I’m telling you, she’s totally not,” A second voice quipped back, exasperated, but also playful in his words. Tim had memorized the tone and distinct way the words were pronounced from his short encounter with Bruce Wayne outside. It was Dick Grayson’s voice, he was certain of it, and it sent a surge of excitement shooting through him so quickly and intensely that he found himself gasping softly before breaking out into a full-on smile. 

“You’re just saying that cause you want her for yourself,” He heard the other boy accuse, though he didn’t sound particularly angry. It was apparent they were talking about girls, or a girl at least, a subject Tim knew nothing about but knew teenagers seemed to like a lot. Did Dick Grayson have a girlfriend? He was still kind of young, but some of the older kids at his school had proudly declared themselves girlfriend and boyfriend and they were only in the sixth grade, so it was possible, he supposed, but something about the boy’s tone implied to Tim that he wasn’t really as interested in girls as his companion was. 

“Me and Donna?” Dick’s voice carried an air of humour and distaste as the words escaped him, “That would just be weird,” he added with a laugh. Tim couldn’t say he recognized the name offhand, but it could be the daughter of one of many businesspeople or socialites Tim had never met. 

It sounded like the two boys were seriously distracted, talking casually about girls as they were, and Tim figured if he wanted to reposition himself to gain an actual look at the two, now would be his chance. It didn’t take long for his eyes to fall on some discarded furniture by the exit, a couple folding tables leaning against a wall, a stack of chairs, a couple of fake plants that had clearly come from the upstairs offices rather than the eloquent interior of the convention centre. It wasn’t much, but Tim was sure he was still small enough that if he situated himself between the far table and the plants it’d be impossible for the teens to detect him. 

“And why would that be weird exactly?” The other boy deadpanned from the stairs as Tim took a sharp breath in to steady himself. If he wanted to execute the plan, he’d have to do it now while they were still too engaged in conversation to notice. If he timed it right, he’d only be out in the open for a second, maybe two. It wasn’t long, but it was still risky. One stray glance his way, or any small slip up on his part and he’d have to make a run for it. If he was fast enough, he could get away and simply have to spend the rest of the night laying low, but if he wasn’t…if he got caught…his heart pounded against his suddenly tight chest at the very thought. He could feel his fingers shaking from where they clutched at the strap of his messenger bag, fear and anticipation hitting him all at once as he calculated the risk in his mind. But still a larger part of him, something irrational but insistent, told him to just go for it. 

“You don’t think that’d be weird?” Dick Grayson shot back at the other boy, probably a diversion tactic, but one Tim barely heard as he took a deep and shaky, but quiet, breath and hastily made his way behind the first of the two tables. He managed to creep behind it stealthily, fitting just right in between the tabletop and the wall as he’d hoped, but he hadn’t looked at the two boys while doing it. He would have no idea if they’d seen him until one of them spoke. Tim closed his eyes tight, held his breath and listening through the blood rushing in his ears for any change in the conversation, any indication that he’d screwed up and would have to run, but he heard no gasps, no angry commentary or sudden shifts in footing. 

“You with a girl? Kind of. With Donna specifically? I don’t see why that’d be any weirder,” The other boy said matter-of-factly. A continuation of the conversation. A quip at his friend. Nothing more. Tim couldn’t help the relieved smile that spread across his face as he finally allowed himself to breathe again. He’d pulled it off somehow. The hardest, riskiest part was over. He even felt a surge of bravery that allowed his the smallest peek around the table’s edge as he crossed from behind one table to the next. 

The red-haired boy, Roy, was sitting on the steps comfortably, leaning back on both elbows as he watched Dick Grayson walk on his hands, climbing up and down the stairs like it was nothing. But it was amazing. A feat Tim, and probably most people, could never hope to replicate, yet looked so effortless when Dick Grayson did it. The teen had shed his suit jacket and tie at some point. Tim could see both sitting in a hapless pile at the bottom of the stairs, something his own parents would have chastised him for doing at a formal event. Tim smiled brighter just taking it all in. Dick was so…unique, so different than the people he was usually around, and there was something so care-free about the way he carried himself. He watched, fascinated as Dick reached the top of the stairs, never once breaking form or faltering before turning on the palms of his hands and descending again. But Tim couldn’t watch for too long. He wasn’t in position yet and there would only be a certain window of time where the boys would be sufficiently distracted. Cautiously, with one hand steadying the bag at his side, he sneaked along the edge of the wall. 

“I don’t know, cause it’s Donna?” Dick said with a small laugh as Tim crawled towards the fake plants at the edge of the second table. It would be a near-perfect spot, just as he’d thought. Tucked away in the natural shadows where the walls met, just enough cover from both the table and the foliage that he wouldn’t be seen easily, yet leaving enough of a gap between branches that he had an almost unobstructed view of the two teenagers. There wasn’t a lot of space between the plants and the wall, but he was determined to make it work, seeing as he’s already come as far as he had. Tim tried to settle gracefully into a long-term position, but he must have moved too quickly, or let his bag shift a little bit too much as he’d sat. Whatever he had done, he realized instantly he’d screwed up when the sound of the plant rustling softy startled even him. 

Tim managed to gasp quietly before his ability to breathe left him altogether, before his whole body froze. He didn’t want to look this time, didn’t want to face the reality that his own careless impatience had probably cost him his only shot at this. But he willed his eyes to move, slowly, up to the two forms on the stairs. Tim’s heart sank when he realized that Dick Grayson had stopped moving. The older boy held his upside-down stance as he looked around, sweeping the room casually but intently, like he was taking in every detail, filing away every bit of information like a sort of predatory bird. Tim felt every muscle tense, his throat go impossibly tight. What had possessed him to even attempt something like this? Of course he was going to get caught. Tim closed his eyes hard, clutched onto the strap of his messenger bag until his fingers hurt and waited for his cue to make a desperate run for it. 

“Hey, Roy? Did you hear something?” Dick Grayson’s voice carried much too loudly through the corridor. It took Tim moments longer than it should have to realize that the words were not directed at him. That they weren’t the ‘hey you!’ or the ‘what are you doing here?’ that Tim had expected to hear from the two boys. 

“No,” Came the simple, casual reply from the red haired boy. Suddenly Tim could breathe again, more curious than afraid. When his eyes opened, he found Dick Grayson’s upside-down gaze was now focused fully on Roy Harper, who was still casually leaning against the steps. The two teens stared at each other for a long moment, in a sort of stand-off best Tim could tell, before Dick somehow shrugged dismissively from within his handstand. An instant later, he was swinging his legs forward and standing with an ease and grace that Tim remembered well from that night at the circus. The memory of the circus helped to ease the anxiety he’d felt some. It often did. And slowly the knowledge sunk in. He wouldn’t have to run. Not yet anyway. He felt his tight muscles ease up slightly, his heart slow just enough that it wasn’t pounding in his ear any longer. But he couldn’t let the fear leave him completely. He could use that fear as a tool. A reminder that if he got comfortable, he’d get careless, like he had just now. 

“It was probably just something from the kitchen,” Dick Grayson offered up as he sat down somewhat heavily next to the, probably older by Tim’s estimate, boy. Tim was happy he hadn’t gotten caught, extremely so, but he also found himself a little sad that the show Dick Grayson hadn’t known he’d been putting on had ended. Though, maybe extraordinary feats of athleticism were just a normal, everyday occurrence when Dick Grayson was concerned. After all, Oliver Queen’s ward hadn’t batted an eye during the whole event, as if it were something he saw all the time. Tim envied him for it fiercely. Envied Dick Grayson for being able to even do that sort of thing. He wondered if maybe, if he worked really hard at it, if maybe one day he could do that sort of thing too? But he knew the thought was foolish. His parents didn’t have time for gymnastics classes or acrobat schools. His parents had mentioned sending him to a boarding school next year so he would be less lonely when they weren’t home, though. Tim hadn’t thought much about it, but it was possible that they’d have a gymnastics team there. They had a lot of other stuff his current school didn’t. Tennis courts, a pool, a huge library. They even offered horseback riding lessons. But the idea, the fantasy, still held a fatal flaw. Even if they offered gymnastics at his new school, he’d still have to be good enough to get onto the team. As it currently stood, Tim didn’t know the first thing about gymnastics. And he’d never once experienced getting picked among the first in team sports. If he was lucky, or if the teachers were sorting the teams that day, he might get picked somewhere in the middle of the pack. His mood darkened just a little as he decided that there was no way he’d be good enough to make it through gymnastics tryouts. 

“Should we head back? We’ll probably be expected to make an appearance at some point,” Dick Grayson asked Roy Harper after a quiet moment between them. Tim could hear the flatness in his words, the slight hesitation that implied that he may be trying to convince himself just as much as he was the other boy. But the other teen looked even less pleased with the idea, his expression as sour as if he’d just bitten into a lemon. 

“Oh yeah, we’d better hurry back. The rich folks may need a couple charity cases to fawn over, right?” The larger teen scoffed with a clear roll of his eyes. Tim couldn’t help the widening of his own eyes, nor the hollow feeling in his chest as a wave of misplaced guilt shot through him. It wasn’t that people had never said stuff like that, quite the contrary, but he’d had no idea that the two boys had ever heard it. He knew they were never meant to have. For Oliver Queen’s ward to say something like that so casually caused a sadness in Tim that he hadn’t expected. It all seemed so…unjust. He watched Dick Grayson frown and look down into his hands at the words.

“We’re not charity cases, Roy,” Dick replied quickly, but Tim could detect the lack of solid conviction, the small hint of doubt in the words. Tim hadn’t known the meaning of the term ‘charity case’ until a few months ago when he’d looked it up. It was one of many terms he’d heard thrown around when people spoke of Dick Grayson, though it only rivaled ‘publicity stunt’ in popularity. He couldn’t say why exactly, but he didn’t think that was the case with Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne, and he doubted it was true of Oliver Queen and Roy Harper either. Bruce Wayne didn’t come across as particularity intelligent or responsible, but it was clear to Tim that he cared for the teen deeply. There were rumours that he’d even made him his heir. Oliver Queen on the other hand was quite an eccentric man best Tim could tell, but he didn’t seem the type to use a kid just to make more money. And it wasn’t like he needed the publicity either. He got plenty of that due to his outspoken political views alone, never mind the fact that he’d apparently survived a year or two stranded on some island once, which Tim had to admit, was pretty impressive. 

“You don’t sound too sure about that,” Roy Harper called him out with a glance that could be taken as a challenge. But Dick Grayson didn’t engage him, didn’t even meet his eye. 

“I’m okay with it. If I am just some…charity case,” He responded thoughtfully, earnestly, as he looked down into his hands, “I mean, I’m still really lucky to be here at all, with Bruce,” he reasoned with a shrug. The words stirred an emotion deep within Tim. He’d seen Dick the night his parents died, watched him standing devastated on a podium as he looked down at their broken bodies. But somehow, despite it all, he still seemed to see the bright side of the situation. Tim wasn’t sure if he could do that if the roles had been reversed. It suddenly made sense why Bruce Wayne had looked happier since taking the boy in. 

“Lucky?” Roy Harper cut in coldly, seemingly unimpressed with Dick’s display of optimism, “what part of any of this is luck exactly? The part where you had to watch your parents die? When they took you away from your home? Or is it the part where you have to put on a suit and smile while a bunch of rich jerks with more money than brains make fun of you behind your back?” The teen asked, waving a hand angrily, face going almost as red as his hair. Tim’s mood took a turn at the words, the anger the boy had displayed. He didn’t know Roy Harper’s backstory, or really anything about him other than he lived with Oliver Queen, but he probably didn’t have parents either. Worst of all, the words he spoke all made sense. Tim couldn’t imagine his life changing so suddenly, the amount of tragedy overshadowed by the cruel laughter of others. How much did it take for Roy to hold the comments back? For Dick to keep up his seemingly sunny disposition? Tim suspected it had much more to do with self-control and willpower than anything akin to luck. 

Dick didn’t engage the older boy, but the comment had clearly struck a nerve. He looked distant as he fidgeted with his hands uncomfortably. It had only been a few years since the accident, and Roy had been right. The people at these events were not often as good natured as they wanted people to believe they were. Tim really didn’t understand why his parents liked these people so much. But then again, what did Tim know about having friends? Maybe that was just what friends did? Roy hadn’t been too kind to Dick just now and Tim was pretty sure the two of them were friends. But Tim also didn’t miss the look that crossed the red-haired boy’s eye as Dick’s silence dragged on. The look of regret, the edge of sympathy. 

“Don’t take it so seriously,” Roy told Dick with a playful shove. His words were mocking, but his eyes never lost their concern.

“I’m not,” Dick protested weakly with a scowl and a glare. 

“Of course you aren’t,” Roy quipped back sarcastically. Tim watched as Dick smirked back despite himself, gave Roy a playful shove back. And just like that it seemed that Roy’s harsh words from before were forgiven. Tim didn’t know for sure, had trouble wrapping his mind around it fully, but maybe that’s what friendship really was. It seemed more real than the friendships his parents had, and it certainly seemed different to the casual acquaintances he’d formed at school. Dick and Roy were mean to each other, but not in the same way his parents’ friends or the kids at school were mean. They were just kind of honest with one another, albeit a bit brutally, but it was real, visceral, and the two of them seemed to understand one another. More than that, they seemed to actually care about one another. They seemed happy as they slipped into a brief, comfortable silence, no idea that the whole thing confused and fascinated the young boy watching from the shadows. 

“I think Lex Luthor was watching us at dinner. He’s such a creep,” Dick said unexpectedly with a soft scowl. Tim’s head tilted up quickly in interest as Roy’s face contorted, his distaste at hearing the name alone apparent. Tim took the scene in slowly, suddenly and astonishingly so relieved because Dick had seen it too! Tim had never heard another person say anything remotely negative about the man out loud before. He’d honestly thought he was the only one who thought the guy was off-putting at all, but just now, Dick had said it and it looked like his friend agreed wholeheartedly. Tim listened in closer, though was very, very careful not to lean forward this time. 

“That guy seriously weirds me out. But…you saw it too huh?” Roy asked the smaller boy, all humour from a few moments ago gone as his pensive eyes turned to Dick fully. Maybe Roy was doubting himself too, just a little. Unsure if he’d seen it or if he’d made it up in his head. Tim knew that feeling. It was like when something happened at the house and the staff told his parents it hadn’t, or how Tim sometimes pointed out something he’d noticed about one of his parents’ friends only to be promptly told that he was just imagining that, or didn’t understand. Maybe Roy Harper felt that way sometimes too, even if he did look incredibly confident to the point of being cocky. In a strange way, watching the two of them, seeing that they weren’t as cool and confident as they initially seemed made Tim feel an odd comradery with them, especially with Dick Grayson who seemed so…normal. He had doubts, and concerns. He laughed and felt sad sometimes. He wasn’t exactly an open book, but Tim could see he was one of those people who ‘wore his heart on his sleeve’ as the gardener sometimes said. In a strange way, it made Tim feel less alone in the world. It was kinda like he’d made a friend almost, even if the teenager didn’t know it himself. They had similar interests, they had similar opinions, at least when it came to Lex Luthor, and if Dick didn’t know him, then he couldn’t judge him. If he never saw him, he’d never get the chance to brush him off or ignore him. The thought excited Tim in a way he’d never felt before. If Dick Grayson was kinda like his friend, then that made Roy Harper a friend of a friend and he’d never even had one of those before. 

“Yeah, I noticed. I think he was mostly staring at Bruce, but…still,” Dick said with an uncomfortable expression. Tim wasn’t surprised he’d noticed. Dick Grayson wasn’t just talented and friendly, he was smart too, though most people didn’t seem to know that. He was definitely the coolest person Tim knew of. Well…second coolest person anyway. Tim could think of one person just a little bit cooler than Dick Grayson and that was Batman’s sidekick, Robin. Robin had only shown up in Gotham three or four years ago depending on what news story you read, but well after the accident at the circus when Tim had seen Batman. He was a kid, just a few years older than Tim, and he was amazing. He took down criminals way bigger than him and helped keep Gotham safe. He even had his own costume, though Tim had always thought it’d be pretty cold out in Gotham at night without pants. But pants or no pants, Robin was still pretty much his hero. 

“As long as he wasn’t staring at me,” Roy reasoned with something akin to a shudder. “At least you’re safe. You’re so tiny he probably couldn’t even see you.” 

“I’m an acrobat, I’m supposed to be small,” Dick muttered just a little bit too loudly, annoyed despite the fact that Tim knew the statement to be true. Acrobats and gymnasts did tend to do better with a smaller stature, though it was far from a determining factor in success. Dick’s father had been considered very tall at just under six feet and he was the best in the world. 

“Yeah, you just keep telling yourself that,” Roy told him with a laugh. Dick turned his narrowed blue eyes to the other teen. 

“I can still kick your butt,” He told Roy with a smirk. Tim’s eyes widened at the comment, not so much just because Dick Grayson had totally just said that, but because Roy was his friend, and friends weren’t supposed to fight each other…were they? 

“You’re on, shortpants!” Roy exclaimed, finally rising from his casual position against the stairs with a smirk and a dangerous glint in his eye.

Neither boy appeared uncomfortable challenging the other. Neither looked mad or upset. In fact, it seemed as though the two reveled in the competition. Tim didn’t understand their motives, nor did he understand when their interaction quickly turned into an arm wrestling contest at the top of the stairs. It was behavior his parents would call ‘unbecoming of a young man’, but these two seemed to be having the time of their lives engaging in it. Their trash talk and laughter filled the stairwell between intense silences wherein neither boy was willing to back down from the contest. Tim could see the laughter in their eyes despite the struggle, could hear the mirth in their voices as they called each other names. They were completely engaged in the contest, so focused on beating the other. They were, in essence, fully and completely distracted. 

Tim wasn’t sure what came over him, but they were so focused right now, and clearly had no idea he was there at all. They surely wouldn’t notice if Tim took just one picture. The thought, the impulse, deep down, confused him, but he just so desperately wanted to remember this after it was all over. He wanted to remember Dick Grayson, and he wanted to remember the interaction the two teens were having. He wanted to remember what friendship looked like and he wanted to remember what it felt like to be a part of something, even if he really hadn’t been. The excitement had been overwhelming from the moment he’d started forming his plan weeks ago, and even now hadn’t waned at all. The picture hadn’t been part of the plan, but maybe he could change his plan just a little bit. Just this once, because his parents never took him to these sorts of things, and this may be the last time he ever got to see Dick Grayson or Roy Harper or Bruce Wayne. 

Tim looked over cautiously, watched as Dick Grayson surprisingly won a round of the arm wrestling match despite his fairly substantial size disadvantage. He must be a lot stronger than he looked, but Tim supposed that made sense. Acrobats probably had to be pretty strong to hang off a trapeze without falling. The teens quickly agreed on a rematch, at Roy’s insistence, and Tim knew that was his chance. 

He fumbled carefully with his messenger bag, keeping one eye glued to the older boys. His tablet slid out easily enough. He’d already turned the brightness all the way down, but he’d still have to keep the device low and turned towards himself to avoid any obvious flashes of light. He knew the sound was off. He’d always kept the sound off after that one day at a business lunch his dad had brought him to. He’d gotten bored after the first hour or so and started playing angry birds. His dad hadn’t been happy. He said the game had been too loud and distracting and if Tim did it again, he wouldn’t be allowed to take his tablet anymore. Tim had kept the sound off for events like this ever since. 

Tim kept his eye towards the two boys as he opened the camera app, lifted the tablet only just enough to capture the shot of both boys. They were both smiling widely, still fully engaged in their contest. Tim moved the tablet till the shot was as perfect as he could get it, zoomed in so he could see them better. With a small smile, he let his small finger tap the button that would allow him to capture this moment, this feeling, forever. 

But Tim didn’t get the chance to see if he had indeed captured the moment. The sound of the camera going off was faint, but too distinct to ignore. Tim had forgotten. He never used the camera, so he had forgot completely that the sound of the shutter didn’t mute when the system did. Tim froze instantly, feeling as though the floor beneath him had just dropped out. His blood turned to ice in his veins as time started to distort around him. He clutched the tablet desperately to his chest with one arm as his free hand covered his mouth to stifle his gasp. But it had been too late. His wide, watery blue eyes could clearly see Dick Grayson’s face change instantly, letting go of Roy’s arm as she shot up to his feet to look around the room. And Tim knew he’d screwed up really, really bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I changed/edited this so many times that i just got to the point where I had to post it. I hope it turned out okay overall. One more chapter to go after this one. 
> 
> Thanks for all the reviews and comments so far!


	3. Chapter 3

“What’s your problem?” He heard Roy Harper ask as Dick Grayson shot up to a standing position, but he barely registered the words. Tim’s whole body had gone numb. 

They were gonna find him. He was sure of it. There was no way they wouldn’t. The two boys would find him, cowering behind a fake plant of all things, and they would yell at him. Dick Grayson. Roy Harper. Maybe even Oliver Queen and Bruce Wayne. Tim thought about running then, but he found he couldn’t do anything, couldn’t get his body to move at all, or even breathe properly, as the room started to close in on him. He could feel the sting of tears in his eyes, burning hotter as the seconds passed. Bruce Wayne knew his parents. There was no way he wouldn’t talk to them about it. He’d tell them what a rotten kid Tim was. They’d be horrified, of course. They’d yell at him first, then at each other. After that they might not talk to him for days. 

“Okay, I’m sure I heard something this time,” Dick said, expression suspicious as Tim watched his eyes scan the area around them slowly. Tim’s hand trembled from where it had settled over his mouth. 

He didn’t expected it when Roy Harper groaned and rose to his feet like it was some sort of chore, but he still looked on curiously as he rested an arm on Dick Grayson’s shoulder. His eyes swept the room casually alongside the younger boys, just in case there was something to be seen. Tim looked on, lost in his own panic. Unmoving, even as he felt a single involuntary tear fall onto the hand covering his mouth. 

“Oh yeah, of course,” Roy told the other teen. But his tone sounded mocking, maybe even a bit condescending. Tim’s eyes opened ever-so-slightly at the odd response. Another tear escaped at the action, but still he halted momentarily, unsure of what to make of Roy’s strange reaction. “Hey, you don’t think…?” The teen continued dramatically, before pausing. Tim felt himself get impossibly tenser, his nails starting to hurt from where he was pretty sure he was leaving scratch marks on the case of his tablet. Roy had figured it out. Of course he had. Tm thought he was being so smart, but he wasn’t. He really, really wasn’t. 

“What?” Dick Grayson asked, turning to look at his friend with a serious expression. This was it. Tim braced himself, closing his eyes tightly and resigning himself to his fate. 

“You don’t…you don’t think the place is haunted, do you?!” Roy said. It was overly-dramatic and mocking, and he was clearly struggling to keep the laughter out of his voice. A joke? Tim opened his eyes cautiously as his face twisted into a mask of confusion. 

“Oh screw you, Roy,” Dick said with a heavy sigh and a shake of his head. Tim could feel his fingers relax, just a little, from where he was gripping, his shallow, quick breathing deepening just a little behind his hand. It didn’t make any sense. Why hadn’t they caught him yet? They had to know he was there. 

“No, no hear me out, Dick! Maybe Mister Twister snuck in here sometime late last night, and is just hiding out, waiting for his chance to cause trouble! We’ll just have to be sure to ask him why when we find him,” The older teen said, this time not able to hold back a laugh at the end. Who ‘Mr. Twister’ was, Tim had no idea. But something about the words, the joke, made the heat on his face feel less intense. He even felt himself relax, just a little, as he heard Dick groan and roll his eyes as he looked back at Roy Harper. 

“You’re a jerk, you know that?” Dick said to him, clearly unimpressed as the older boy continued to laugh at him. Tim lowered the hand from his mouth, very, very slowly to join the one clutching his tablet for dear life. Dick didn’t seem as concerned as he had been a moment ago. Roy didn’t seem concerned at all. Maybe, just maybe, they wouldn’t find him after all. 

“And you’re as paranoid as your dad,” Roy said, still joking, but much softer this time, as he removed his arm from on top of the acrobat’s shoulder. Dick looked decidedly uncomfortable at the words though, kinda sad even, and the concern Tim felt for him in that moment just slightly overshadowed the fear still coursing through his body. 

“Bruce isn’t…really my dad,” Dick said awkwardly, shrugging as he turned away from his friend to look down at the patterned carpet on the stairs. Tim could feel his own tears drying on his face as he watched Dick’s expression go a little stormy. Tim didn’t know exactly what a ‘ward’ was. He’d kinda thought it was like on TV when the orphans found new parents and got adopted, but maybe it was different than that. Nobody called Dick Grayson and Bruce Wayne father and son. It was always ward and guardian. 

Tim didn’t really like the technicalities of the train of thought he’d started on, but it did serve to distract him from his situation. He would have to look up the terms later on, once this was all over. Roy seemed to catch on to Dick’s bad mood just as quickly as Tim had, though the change in his demeanor was very subtle. 

“Fair enough,” he concluded. “Still paranoid, though.” 

“I did hear something,” Dick protested weakly. That alone was enough to keep Tim on edge. Dick Grayson hadn’t forgotten about the sound he’d heard and it didn’t look like he would, even at Roy Harper’s insistence. Tim bit softly at his lip, his nervousness returning full force in an instant. 

“No you didn’t,” Roy insisted. 

“Yes I did,” Dick stated. 

“No you didn’t.”

“Yes I did.” 

“Did it occur to you that we’re at a party, and people are loud at those?” Roy asked, waving a hand in exasperation at his friend. Dick shot him a look back that Tim could only describe as frigid. 

“It wasn’t the party, it sounded like a camera,” Dick insisted bitterly, causing Roy to roll his eyes and sigh. 

“Fine. Let’s go check it out. But for the record, when we find nothing, I told you so,” Roy said without a hint of humour.

Then Roy Harper started to purposefully descend the stairs. Tim’s hand returned to cover his mouth instantly, which was the only thing that stopped his soft, strangled whine from being heard. Though he could do nothing at all about the incredibly loud beating of his heart. 

Behind the tables was probably the first place Roy would look. It’s where Tim would have looked first if the roles had been reversed.

He had known this was stupid idea. As if he could ever pull off watching Dick Grayson, like he’d even been worthy to follow the boy around in the first place. Tim clutched at his tablet desperately with his free hand, closed his eyes against the hot tears that he wouldn’t be able to stop this time and bit his lip to stifle his cries. This was it. He had no escape route, no backup plan. They would find him, and they’d be mad. And then he’d be alone again. 

Roy Harper was nearly all the way down the stairs, Dick Grayson trailing closely behind him, when someone unexpectedly called out Roy’s name from down the hall. Tim opened one eye in surprise, his heart trying to jump out of his chest as he watched the teens pause to listen as well. They shared a casual glance with one another before turning to the mouth of the hallway. 

“I’m over here,” Roy called out after a pause, descending the stairs into the foyer and waiting. Tim watched through watery eyes as Oliver Queen appeared seconds later, calm yet amused as he sauntered towards the two teens. 

“There you are. Have you two been here all night?” He asked as he approached. Tim knew they had been. He’d been there with them for half of the night at least. 

“Yeah, mostly,” Roy Harper told the man vaguely. Dick descended the stairs a moment after that, coming into view of Oliver Queen, who looked him over once before quirking a single blonde eyebrow. 

“Bruce was looking for you earlier,” Oliver Queen informed Dick, causing the boys expression to turn into something of a grimace. 

“I knew we should have headed back,” Dick mumbled to Roy, who just smirked down at him smugly. Mr. Queen smirked too though, a clear sign that he at least hadn’t been bothered by the boys’ disappearance. 

“You boys did miss Julie Montgomery throwing a drink in her husband’s face, which was pretty damn funny, but aside from that it was the same boring dinner you’ve been to a hundred times before,” Mr. Queen told them with a casual shrug. Even in his overwrought state, Tim did think the image of Mrs. Montgomery, a middle aged, over the top socialite throwing a drink on her husband would have been pretty funny to see firsthand. “But that being said, you should probably straighten yourself up and go find Bruce before he comes looking for you first,” Mr. Queen said, addressing Dick’s lack of a jacket and tie more directly. 

“Right,” Dick agreed, looking down at himself, much too casual and disheveled to pass as acceptable if he were to go into the dining room. 

Tim watched Dick scramble to pick up the jacket and tie he’d shed at some point early in the night, a move which, if Dick Grayson had just so happened to turn his head, would have brought him pretty much directly eye level to Tim. Tim scrunched himself as small as he could go without touching or moving anything, feeling his bottom lip tremble beneath his teeth. He was scared, so scared, but a small part of him wondered…what if? What if Dick Grayson turned in just the right way? What if they did meet eye to eye again? 

But Dick just quickly picked up the items and started to put them back on unceremoniously as Roy Harper’s laughter died off in the background. 

“What about us, are we leaving?” Roy asked his guardian, or…was Mr. Queen his dad? Tim would clear up the terms later, but he could see a light in Roy’s eyes that hadn’t been there before Oliver Queen had shown up. It made Tim question the term ‘guardian’, the whole concept of parents in general. But it didn’t matter much now. Using proper terms wouldn’t get him out of any trouble if he was caught. They were distracted, no longer focused on the phantom noise they had heard, nor the possibility that someone had been nearby. He just had to hold on long enough for them to leave. 

“Leaving? Not a chance. There’s still some people here I need to piss off,” Oliver Queen said jovially as he wrapped an arm around Roy Harper’s shoulders. Roy’s eyes seemed to light up even more at the man’s words. 

“I get to help, right?” Roy exclaimed as he was lead out of the corridor.

“How else are you gonna learn?” Oliver Queen assured the boy with a smirk as they started to exit. Tim could see it was clearly a strange relationship Oliver Queen and his ward shared, but it seemed to fit both of them perfectly in its own unusual way. 

“Dick, you coming?” Oliver Queen asked over his shoulder at the boy frantically trying to get his tie straight before he got left behind. A part of Tim’s brain registered it as a little curious that Oliver Queen had called him Dick, seeing as just about everyone at these places referred to him as ‘Richard’. Queen industries and Wayne Enterprises didn’t often cross paths in the business world, and though their wards were friends, Bruce Wayne and Oliver Queen didn’t seem to be very close. 

But Tim was done pushing his luck tonight. Was done with tonight in general. If he got out of this without being caught it would be a small miracle. One he didn’t deserve. It was his own poor planning, his own shortcomings that had caused all this in the first place. Tim hadn’t been able to relax at all, his body feeling like one big exposed nerve as he waited patiently for everyone to just leave, though his mind was starting to become much too tired to care. It had been a stupid idea anyway. 

“I’m coming!” Dick said as he threw his jacket on over his shoulders, having given up on the tie as Mr. Queen and Roy Harper stared to disappear back down the corridor. Dick gave a frustrated huff as the two disappeared. He took only a few sprinting steps before he stopped suddenly, just on the other side of the staircase, and stared back into the dead end with suspicious blue eyes. 

Tim felt what little breath he could draw in catch in his throat. A stupid, stupid part of him told himself that he could just go out there and introduce himself to the teen. They’d met once before, so it wasn’t like they were strangers.

But Dick wouldn’t remember him. There was no reason for him to. And at this point it was much too late to expose himself. It would be blatantly clear that he’d been spying. And even if Dick was okay with that, which he wouldn’t be, Tim would have to introduce himself as that boy he met the night his parents were killed. Tim didn’t know what that felt like, to lose people he loved like that, but it was probably something Dick didn’t want to talk about. He wouldn’t if he were Dick Grayson. Especially not with some annoying little kid who spied on him.

Tim felt another set of tears streak down his face. The memory of that night at the circus, the situation now, the fact that Dick Grayson would never forgive him if he found out, just all too much. 

It was both a relief and a disappointment when Dick Grayson straightened his jacket sleeves out and turned to walk out behind his friend. 

Tim counted slowly to 100 after Dick Grayson was out of sight before finally letting out the sobs that had been building, gasping for air like a fish out of water as he put his tablet in his bag and wiped at his tears angrily with the sleeve of his own disheveled suit. What had he been thinking? The plan, the whole idea, had been stupid from the start!

But at least he hadn’t got caught. That knowledge, the fact, that he’d actually somehow gotten away with it…was exhilarating. The emotion confused Tim terribly, so he decided to form another plan. He would wait until he stopped crying, then change into the spare suit in his bag, then go find his parents. They wouldn’t know what he did. 

He hadn’t gotten caught. 

~~~

It hadn’t taken long for Tim to find his parents in the dining room, both due to his mother’s distinct blue dress and the fact that the amount of people had significantly reduced since Tim had exited some time earlier. It was a young woman his dad had been talking to that pointed out that there was a kid behind them, which was when his parents finally turned to acknowledge him. 

“Oh, that one’s ours,” His dad had joked with the woman, whom Tim didn’t recognize. He didn’t even attempt to search his memory banks for her name or why she might be at the event. He was tired, drained both physically and emotionally. It was probably well past his usual bedtime by this point in the night, but he knew they wouldn’t be heading back any time soon. His parents didn’t look tired in the least and there were still enough people here to keep them talking for hours. 

“Did you find your friend?” His mother asked him pleasantly, unusually pleasantly, as she half-turned to him. 

“No, I played with some other kids,” Tim told her. It wasn’t exactly a lie. He’d kind of hung out with Dick Grayson ad Roy Harper…just that they hadn’t know that.

“That’s nice, Tim,” His mother said absently, but before she fully turned back to her circle of friends she did something of a double take, her head quirking and eyes narrowing as she looked down at him a little closer. “Tim, did you change your tie?” She asked him curiously. The question seemed to catch his dad’s attention as well. He took a moment, drew himself away from the conversation he had been having, to look down at Tim, then up at his mother with a single quirked eyebrow. 

“No,” Tim said as smoothly and innocently as he could. He knew the match hadn’t been perfect between the two ties. He’d only had a limited amount to work with, and while he’d been able to match the suit and the shirt to one another without too much trouble, the ties would look quite different to anyone who’d been paying close enough attention. He wasn’t too worried though. His parents rarely ever paid close enough attention to really call him out on stuff like that. 

“Are you sure?” His mother asked, looking closely at the tie. A little bit too closely. So closely, that Tim had a moment of worry that tonight would be the night that she actually did catch him in a lie. But the feeling only lasted a moment, nowhere near long enough to dwell on, before he heard his dad start to laugh. 

“Janet, really, where’s he gonna get another tie here?” His dad questioned openly. His mom seemed to think the question over for a second before she turned to the people around her and started to laugh as well. 

“I could have sworn those stripes were blue before,” She explained with a coy laugh, followed quickly by the others, before taking another sip from her glass. 

“What can I say? I told her to stay away from the wine bar,” his dad added, addressing the crowd. That garnered an even bigger laugh from them, but Tim didn’t quite miss the dark look his mother shot his father before joining in that laughter. 

Still, the exchange was pleasant. Tim knew they were only like this when they weren’t home. In fact, it seemed they were only happy when they were out of the house at some business meeting or dinner event, and especially when they were on their vacations. Tim wondered sometimes if maybe it was because of him. They loved their work and their vacations, but with him to take care of at home, it was always a hassle. A burden on their shoulders. Finding babysitters, keeping staff employed, arranging for schools…all things they wouldn’t have had to think about if Tim hadn’t been around. He knew he was pretty good at taking care of himself, but still, it never seemed to be enough. The thoughts lingered as he watched them easily work the room. 

It was only a few minutes before his parents grew distracted once again. It allowed Tim the freedom to let out the yawn he’d been stifling as he climbed onto the nearest comfy looking chair. He hoped his parents wouldn’t be too much longer, but he also didn’t count of getting back to the hotel anytime soon. 

He wasn’t sure at what point he’d nodded off. He’d woken up once when a group nearby had exploded into laughter suddenly, and once again when Bruce Wayne walked up to his parents, Dick Grayson in tow, to say his goodbyes for the night. Tim wasn’t sure if that last memory was a dream or not, but at the end of it, he was pretty sure Dick Grayson had smiled at him before following Bruce Wayne out of the dining room. It was probably just a dream. 

He didn’t remember what time it was when they finally got back to the hotel room, but he did remember his dad shaking him awake and finding himself on top of the bed in the smaller of the two bedrooms. 

It was dark in the room, but there was light flooding in from the main room, as well as light from the busy city outside. It was kind of loud too, the sounds of traffic and people vivid even through the closed window. Their house in Gotham wasn’t like this. It was always dark and quiet except for the crickets. Unless there was a crime wave that night. Those nights would be filled with the sound of sirens, and screams, and the occasional explosion, all so loud that they carried all the way to even his house. 

“Tim, change into your pajamas before you fall asleep, okay?” He heard his dad ask, though couldn’t really see him through his blurry vision when he opened his eyes to acknowledge him. 

“But I’m wearing my suit,” Tim said sleepily, though wasn’t sure why those were the words that fell from his lips. He didn’t even like wearing suits. 

He heard his dad rummage around a little before he spoke once more, “I know, kiddo. You need to change out of it before you fall asleep,” His dad told him again, calmly. A realization hit Tim alongside his dad’s words. 

“Are you going back out?” Tim asked him, opening his eyes up a little more to see if his father was still dressed or if he’d taken off his tie yet. Tim knew if the tie was off, the night was over and he’d be staying in, possibly watching a little bit of TV before falling asleep. But when Tim’s eyes caught sight of him, he was still in full dress. Tim wasn’t sure why he felt disappointed. It wasn’t like he’d expected his mom and dad to call it a night so early with this many important people around. 

“Yeah, we’ll just be downstairs though. Your mom has her cell phone on her, and my credit card is on the table if you need anything,” his dad explained to him, perhaps a bit hurriedly. Tim simply nodded, closing his eyes again. “And make sure you change before you fall asleep. Your mother won’t be happy if you ruin that suit,” His dad reminded him a third time. 

“Okay,” Tim agreed absently. He didn’t open his eyes, but he could hear the clear sound of his dad walking out of the bedroom, closing the door only most of the way before treading across the carpeted living room and locking the door securely once he was out in the main hall. 

Tim waited a moment, groaning, before rolling over and climbing off the bed, eyes still mostly closed as he kicked off his shoes, shed his coat and tie. He was too tired to walk, so he instead opted to crawl along the floor toward his open suitcase. Once there, he pulled out a pair of pajamas like his dad had told him to. 

But his attention was quickly diverted by a small crack of light shining through the mostly closed door. It fell on to his messenger bag like a spotlight, reminding Tim of its very presence, its importance in tonight’s events. 

The thought woke him up just enough to change into the pajamas he’s brought along before rising to his feet and walking over to the bag. His first order of business was, of course, taking the used suit out of it and putting it back into his suitcase where it wouldn’t look suspicious. Then he found his small hand grabbing automatically for his tablet. It was almost a part of his nightly routine, grabbing his tablet before bed, watching a video or playing a game until he fell asleep. 

Tim crawled back on top of the bed with the device firmly in hand. He settled in quickly, and absently unlocked the screen. 

But instead of his home screen, he was met full-on by the photograph he’d taken earlier or Dick Grayson and Roy Harper. His breath caught softly, though how he had forgotten about the image at all was beyond his own comprehension. But here, alone, and with no imminent danger, Tim found himself greedily studying the image he was somehow able to capture with wide eyes. 

The two teens were staring at each other intensely, arms locked in a battle of strength and wills. Dick Grayson’s hair had fallen over one eye, and Roy Harpers tie had somehow managed to go crooked, both details Tim had missed in the moment. But he could see them clearly now. 

It filled him with a strange thrill, a faint smile even coming over his features as he studied the image closer. Things had changed. Dick Grayson styled his hair differently now, the expensive suit he was in was wildly different from the costume he had worn when he was at the circus, and though he was still small for a 13 year old, he’d grown a lot in the almost 5 years since the accident. 

But his smile was still every bit as brilliant, his presence just as effervescent, and his eyes still just as kind and bright as Tim had remembered. Tim smiled brightly too as he focused on the little details. A small scar over one wrist, a healing bruise just barely visible under the collar of Dick’s bright blue shirt. He’d gotten this photo. And he hadn’t gotten caught. 

Tim wasn’t tired anymore after that. It hadn’t been a clean sweep by any means. He’d almost gotten caught, twice, and he’d cried like a little kid for ten minutes after he’d been left alone in that corridor. But if he planned better and thought things through a little more, then maybe next time it would be easier. He could practice on the staff at home, and if he asked enough, he was sure his parents would buy him a proper camera, one that didn’t make noise when you took a picture. And he could think things through better. Make sure he knew a way to get out of a place before he went in. The more he thought about it, the more he gazed at the picture of Dick Grayson arm in arm with his friend, the easier it all sounded to Tim. 

Maybe if he got good enough at it…maybe one day he could even get a picture of Batman and Robin.

The shadowy image he’d seen that night at the circus had never left his mind. Batman was the mysterious protector of Gotham. A hero, depending on who you asked. A picture of Batman would be something else entirely. And Robin…Robin was just the coolest. 

There weren’t a lot of pictures of Robin out there, but the few Tim had seen had shown a boy that looked so happy and care-free. Happy in a way Tim couldn’t even imagine. It was mystifying, and it would make a great picture. One Tim could treasure forever. It would be almost as good as actually meeting Robin. Maybe even almost as good as being Robin. It was something Tim could never hope to achieve himself, there was already a Robin anyway, but secretly he fantasized about a yellow cape of his own, helping people by Batman’s side and wearing a big smile while swinging from the rooftops. 

Tim’s mind raced with plans until sleep finally took him. He dreamt of friends and happiness. Of meeting Dick Grayson for real. His own uniform, the shadow of Batman. Helping others and being someone that everyone liked. He knew somewhere in the back of his mind that the pleasant dreams would vanish the moment he awoke, giving way to the same problems they did every other day. After all, dreams weren’t real. But it didn’t matter. Because tonight, in this dream…he was the lucky one. He was Robin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> well I really hope I did this some justice. I miss old school Tim. Bad. 
> 
> Once again, thanks to those of you who left kudos, bookmarked and especially those of you who commented!

**Author's Note:**

> I hope it's okay. I wasn't gonna post this one originally, but it's basically finished so it was one of those "why not?" decisions. I'm thinking this fic will be about 3 chapters total. If I ever finish this, I'm planning to do a similar 'origin story'/character study for both Dick and Jason. 
> 
> As always, if I've made any mistakes, let me know!


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